Interview with an Inventor
by CuriousLittleBird
Summary: In this interview transcript, Tobey McCallister reveals that he knows who WordGirl truly is...and also allows us a rare look inside his mind and reasoning. One-shot, complete.


**A/N: This fic is written as a literal transcript of a recorded interview with Tobey McCallister. Who is interviewing him? I will leave THAT to your imagination.  
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><p>How long have I known that Becky Botsford and WordGirl were the same person?<p>

A good while. I'm quite surprised that more of the city _doesn't_ know, honestly. I mean, once you know of Becky's dual identity, it becomes embarrassingly obvious, at least to those with intelligence. But perhaps I'm overestimating the average citizen. I am possessed of superior wit and insight, after all.

Becky knows I suspect, at least; I confronted her with all the evidence once, and I thought I had trapped her neatly into admitting it. But she and that maddening monkey of hers distracted me temporarily with that WordGirl-doll stunt. She seemed so relieved after the fact, however, that I elected not to confront her about it again—well, not until it suited my purpose.

You see, I'm not merely an inventor, and I'm certainly more than "that kid who builds robots" (what a patronizing phrase, by the way—I would appreciate it if you would not use that). I'm also an observer; I prefer to watch and plan, and to keep those thoughts to myself until I need to act on them. And from what I have observed, Becky is quite adept at balancing her double life, even as stressful as it is. She first captured my affections with her super strength and speed, but she has held onto my heart because she leads such a difficult existence and yet never drops her smile. …Ahh, that smile, the one that brightens my sweetest of dreams! How I long for her to finally smile at me!...

-Forgive me, I've gone a bit maudlin. Where was I?

…Oh, yes, Becky's double life. Ahem. Well, I kept noticing that whenever WordGirl was around, Becky was mysteriously nowhere to be seen. And after WordGirl would zip off to an unknown destination, Becky would reappear, with a paper-thin excuse. That, plus the incriminating costume photos I had taken, and the similar physical characteristics I had seen (and admired), led me to my ultimate conclusion, that Becky was merely hiding her true identity as a superhero. But once I knew—and after I had confronted her—I perceived that Becky seemed to _deliberately_ separate her life into its two parts, as if she preferred to keep her heroic activities anonymous to some extent.

I'm not certain what fate she thinks would befall her if her two lives were suddenly combined. After all, I need no mask or costume to be the villainous boy genius I am, and I have no qualms about being known for it. But because I respect her as an opponent—yes, I do, as a matter of fact—and because I am at heart a gentleman, I have chosen to respect her unspoken wishes and keep my knowledge of her identity secret, even from her.

Besides, this knowledge may behoove me someday. Perhaps one day she will need—or want—an ally, someone who truly understands the stress she's been under, someone she can talk to. And, if such an ally presents himself, and proves himself to be worthy of her trust and love, perhaps then…then she will deign to kiss his cheek, and to hold him close…!

…Ah, yes, I digress again…excuse me, **what** was that about "silly dreams?" I'll have you know that these "dreams," as you call them, are quite precious to me. You might say they even help hold me together.

I'm sure you're wondering why a boy genius like myself _needs_ dreams. "Why, surely you've got it all together, Mr. McCallister," you say. -I heard that snicker, by the way, and I do NOT appreciate being mocked in my own lair!-

-As I was saying, my dreams keep me focused. My mother disapproves of my robots, after all, and Becky (as WordGirl) disdains them, even though I love my work and find solace in it. These robots are the friends I make for myself, more loyal than any human and yet more fragile, too; they need me as their creator. Mother only _really_ needs me to win awards and be a "good little boy" to prove she has succeeded as a parent. (I am not ignorant enough to believe anything else of her.) So what else am I meant to do, but continue to build these robots and send them into the city so I can watch Becky do what she does so well, and hope that one day she'll acknowledge the dashing young man behind their metal faces?

Not to say that I have no ulterior goal other than to watch Becky destroy my robots. Of course I would prefer that she not destroy them; I'd personally like to see them achieve my goal of world domination. But I also know that she must protect her chosen city. So I, as a gentleman, must continue to present her with challenges so that the common folk are constantly reminded of how strong she is. If she only knew how much of her reputation is thanks to _my_ selfless efforts!

-I do wish you wouldn't sneer at me like that. Of course I'm speaking truthfully. …And just what do you mean, "overblown opinion of myself?!" Do you want an interview with a boy genius or not? …Oh, is that so? You're calling this "Interview with an Inventor?" Mere inventor, **indeed**! I ought to smash that recording device, except that you would need ME to fix it—and I could!

…Hmmph, that's better. Now, if you're quite done insulting me…?

Yes…hmm. Well, I've said nearly all there is to say about discovering Becky's secret identity, to be frank. But there is one more thing. I know I've threatened her safety a number of times in the past, and…and I do tend to irritate her with my throngs of robots, but—but I do love her, you know. How could one not love such a girl, who combines the ordinary with extraordinary so gracefully? And, because I love her, I wish I could tell her that I KNOW just what and who she really is, and that she has nothing to fear from me. -Well, excepting my giant robots, of course! I mean that she doesn't need to worry that I will reveal her secret. If I could just have a moment with her, to gaze into her dark eyes and tell her that one other person in this entire city knows all her sacrifices and her strain, and loves her yet more for it…_oh_, how my heart would thrill.

I'm quite simple at heart, aren't I? An unexpected romantic, you might say…

-**_STOP THAT SNICKERING!_**


End file.
